Page 28 of Feel It in the Air

8

GUS

“How about a drive instead?Hayes House is a bit of a hike.”

I push to my feet, holding my hand out for her, hoping that she’ll take it. More than anything, I want to feel her skin against mine, even if it is nothing more than our palms pressed together.

Her skin is soft as she takes hold, rising gracefully, eyes filled with mischief. “You know where I live?”

Shit…

“Errrr…”

Okay, time to tap dance. I can do this. There’s a very reasonable explanation for why I am in possession of that fact. One that isn’t that I looked it up in her personnel file. Which, to be fair, is true. I verified it in her personnel file. After I eavesdropped in payroll on her first day.

Not at all against company policy or a violation of her personal privacy. Said no one ever.

Margeaux raises an eyebrow, her impish smile widening as she waits for me to respond. My heart rate picks up, my brain slowing down in equal measure. At least she’s not running in the opposite direction.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Willa mentioned it?” I try, hoping I come off suave, rather than desperate. Because I most certainly feel desperate.

Margeaux shakes her head. “I don’t believe I actually told her where I lived.”

Shit…

“How about it was a lucky guess based on you sitting with Marisela and Alex?”

Pursing her lips, Margeaux seems to consider my answer for a moment. But only a moment. Then she steps in closer, leaving mere inches between us. I can’t help but smile, trying to match the one still spread across her face, enjoying the fuck out of this playful vibe she’s got going. As nervous as I am about being called out over this, deep down, I can tell I’m not in too much trouble. Thankfully.

“You could just admit you looked it up.”

“Might have.”

“And here I took you for such a rule follower.”

I shrug. “Every now and again, I do something that surprises even myself.”

Margeaux’s giggle fills the air, overtaking the din of conversation that had been surrounding us, working its way into me, flooding my veins. Fuck, there is something about this woman, something I can’t name, but every time I’m around her, it’s like my soul wakes up.

I hold out my arm, turning toward the parking lot, and Margeaux follows my lead, looping hers through mine. I don’t bother announcing our exit. The group will either see us leave together or figure it out soon enough. Last thing I need to do is give them ammunition to harass me. Or Margeaux for that matter. I’d like to think they’d be on their best behavior with her here, but I can’t be sure.

We silently make the short walk to the gravel lot, the cool fall temp settling around us. Looking over at Margeaux, I breathe easy, enjoying how comfortable this moment is. Natural. That nothing about it feels forced. I’ve only spent a few hours—total—with this woman, and somehow it feels as if this should be our every Friday night.

When I reach my vehicle, I stop, turning to the redheaded beauty still on my arm, and wait. Wait for the reaction that I know is coming. Because it always does.

“Which one is yours?” she asks, looking around at all the trucks parked in the small lot.

Good question. Valid question. Hickory Hills is a small, rural town in the middle of Southern Georgia. The vast majority of this town—hell, Knox County—drives a truck. I, however, am not a part of that majority.

I stay silent, guiding her gaze with mine, waiting for her to follow. It only takes another second or two, then the gasp comes.

“OMG, no.” Dropping my arm, Margeaux spins to face me, hands cupping her face, covering her open mouth. I nod. “No. Gus…”

I nod again.

And Margeaux loses it.

If I thought her giggle from before flooded into me, I was wrong. Because this laughter takes ahold of my soul and lights it up like the Fourth of July. It weaves its way into my very being, and in an instant I know I won’t ever be the same.